A little truth seasons a lie like salt.
You’re as bad as your master,” he muttered, scarce audible amid the sea-sounds. “Worse. At least he didn’t ply his words from a courtesan’s lips.
Years ago, I had a teacher who taught me that all ways lead to the Way,
All knowledge is worth having.
Your dreaming self seeks to tell you something your waking ears will not hear
We pay for sins we do not remember, and seek to do a will we can scarce fathom. That is what it is, to be a god’s chosen.
If I had to fall from Cassiel’s grace, at least I know it took a courtesan worthy of Kings to do it.
Some chains are forged for us – those are the hardest to bear.
Wars come and go; politics endure.
All this I knew, and yet it was a different thing, to learn it from Delaunay: not stories, but histories. For this too I learned, that a storyteller’s tale may end, but history goes on always. These events, so distant in legend, play a part in shaping the very events we witness about us, each and every day. When I understood this, Delaunay said, I might begin to understand.